


love is a polaroid

by nyckolodeo_n



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, F/F, M/M, Slow Burn, also there's a serious lack of Alby i'm so, like incredibly slow burn im so, so r ry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyckolodeo_n/pseuds/nyckolodeo_n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Thomas shakes himself out of his stupor and says, unintentionally, “Who's that?" He doesn't actually specify who means and by the time he realizes that it's probably really creepy to stare at the track team for the extended period in which he's done so, theirs a loud whistle that must signal the end of practice.</i><br/> </p><p>  <i>“Who Minho? He’s the Track Captain, which you've probably guessed, as well as the best running back this school’s football team has ever seen. He’s really good friends with Newt and Fry.” His smirk grows and it takes all of Thomas’ willpower not to cuff the back of his head. “Why Thomas? Y’like him?” Thomas hates Chuck; he takes back any nice thing he’s said about him ever.</i></p><p>*temporarily on hiatus*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again! I know it's been an incredibly long time since i've posted _anything_ and i really want to apologize. I've been working on getting my school and work life in check and I think I'm finally back. SO. This is actually a gift-fic that i wrote for my lovely darling, [angelo](http://illbeyourbrucelee.tumblr.com) , please go shower him with love.
> 
> This fic inspired by a tumblr post i saw a really long time ago and i've now lost the link to so... But anyway I hope you all enjoy it and I will be eternally grateful if you all would be a little lenient with my updating, i do work and school starts in just a couple weeks and this isn't my priority at the moment. Thank you for your patience :)
> 
> Also, i don't actually know shit about how Boarding School works, this is all 125% made up :)

In all honestly, he’s not really surprised that his last little charade ended in him being sent off to boarding school – aka a place where either kids whose families are too rich for their own good go or those with a troubled history that could only afford to attend on a scholarship. Thomas is, as you’ve probably already guessed, the latter case mentioned, unfortunately. Anyways, so he’s not really surprised that accidentally, maybe a little bit on purpose setting his art teacher’s trash can on fire is his mother’s last straw before she’s looking up alternative ways to discipline him while not seeming like she’s being too hard on him. She’s raised him on her own since Thomas was four and his father left in the middle of the night with not as much as a letter or a phone call to follow. Thomas still hasn’t forgiven him for it, nor will he ever. Which is why, in his final weeks of summer leading up to his Junior year of school, Thomas is stuck packing bags and boxes of some of his more personal belongings to keep in his dorm – his guitar, his many, many notebooks, a picture of him as his mom at Disney when he was eight, and a few other things – rather than enjoying the sun and half-priced ice cream with Aris and Rachel and living like all seventeen year olds should be doing leading up to their second to last year of school. Not getting ready to change schools.

 

It only takes a week and a half to get everything he needs packed, and then two days of dealing with a crying Aris and Rachel on his shoulders before he’s packing all of his stuff into his car and gearing up for the two-and-a-half hour drive to WICKED Prep. School doesn’t actually start for few days or something like that – because instead of starting on a Monday, like regular people, they start on a fucking Wednesday – but his mother and the principal thought it would be a good idea for Thomas to try and make a few friends and “settle in” the best he can before being thrown right into things without even so much as a crash course on what he’s getting into. He doesn’t actually plan on trying to settle in and make friends, but he had smiled and nodded when his mother had talked to him about it, because he can’t stand when she looks disappointed in him and that’s becoming more and more frequent and maybe going to the this school will actually be really good for both of them. He spends his entire drive listening to everything from The Killers and ACDC to Bruno Mars to *NSYNC, and screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs as his last bit of freedom is getting further and further away from him. Before he knows it, he’s finally pulling down the long driveway to WICKED Prep and pulling his car into one of the first available spots in the student section. He leaves his boxes in the car, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and doesn’t remove his sunglasses as he heads for the front entrance and pushes through the main doors of the facility.

 

Almost immediately, he can feel the stares and hear the murmurs of the other students as he, the new kid, walks down the hallway towards where the signs say the office is located. He rolls his eyes at how ridiculous something like there being a new kid can affect people who go to a boarding school, but ignores everyone as he pushes into the office and finally pushes his sunglasses up onto his head. He’s directed to the right by what must be the secretary – please, call me Jorge, _muchacho_ – into Principal Paige’s office, and during their meeting, he pretends to be paying attention to what she’s saying even though he really couldn’t care any less. He’s here to make his mom happy, not bond with every person he sees and make flower crowns and nice conversation with everyone. They talk about rules and curfews and expectations that he must live up to if he wants to actually be allowed to stay, and he hangs on a bit to that last part, because this is the only school that will take him based on his history and the financial instability of his household.

 

He receives a map of the school, his schedule, and a list of extracurricular opportunities that Principal Paige really thinks he should consider. He agrees and smiles at her as she leads him out of her office. He immediately drops the corners of his lips when she closes the door, hurrying back out to his car to grab his two boxes – that are probably seriously over packed considering the amount of things he decided to bring with him – before heading for the west wing of the building and looking for his room – which is thankfully on the first floor because he’s sure he would die if he had to go upstairs not only for classes but just to get away from classes and the people in them. When he gets to his room, he has to become a little bit of an acrobat, so he can unlock the door without falling on his face or dropping all of his things. When he’s finally got it on the third try, he stumbles into his new room, immediately relocating his stuff from his arms to the floor directly in front of him. He’s got a room to himself – they apparently don’t get many transfer students this late in their school career and they don’t believe in rooming across age groups so a single it was with the odd number of students at the school that year – and he’s never been more grateful for such a rule to be in place. He isn’t sure he’d be able to handle the awkward meeting your new roommate for the first time that you’re probably never going to actually talk to because of the whole “I don’t even want to be here,” thing.

 

The room consists of one dresser, presumably already half filled with his school uniform – he grimaces at the idea of having to wear the same goddamn thing every day – and a bed in the opposite corner. There’s a bathroom directly next to the dresser, but since he knows they process on a communal shower system, he can probably guess the only thing that’s through that door is a toilet and a sink. There’s a small closet directly to the right of the bedroom door that sits just far enough away from the door that if he were to have visitors – if – they wouldn’t hit him or vice versa if they were to open the door and one of them was getting something out of the closet. The window is directly to the left of the bed and the view he has looks directly across the pond that sits across the northwest side of the campus, directly next to the football and soccer fields. It’s a nice room all in all and he feels a little bit bad about being so bitter about coming here.

 

He pushes one of his boxes over to his bed, and then makes the trip back to his car to grab his guitar and suitcase, again keeping his sunglasses on and ignoring every glance sent his way and whisper that is most likely about him. When he gets back to his room, he locks his door and ignores the commotion going on outside of it of friends getting reacquainted with each other and younger kids being led to their dorms by older students and dorm officers. The first thing he does is put his dock station on his bedside table and attaches his iPod to it, turning it as loud as he feels he can without being a disturbance to those who are going to room around him. He unpacks quickly, emptying his suitcase in an unfashionable manner into the dresser, and immediately shoves his box of notebooks onto the shelf in the closet. He dumps his shoes into a semi-organized row on the floor of his closet before he moves a few of his uniforms to the hangers in his closet, making more room for his sketchbooks, laptop, and music production equipment. He moves back to the bed and finishes unpacking the second box by putting up pictures of him and his mom on his dresser, hanging his cork-board on the wall and then decorating that with pictures of him with the few friends he had back in Alabama.

 

His heart aches for a moment before he remembers that what he’s doing is, in the long run, for the greater good (his mom) and sucks it up. He’s just finished hanging his whiteboard and a calendar for reminders and assignment deadlines on the wall, when there’s a light knock on the door. He tries to ignore it, sings louder along with his music in his head because there is absolutely no way in hell he’s going to be able to turn his music up any louder without having one of his neighboring classmates complain to the principal, and the last thing he needs is to get into trouble before the year has even started. He believes himself mostly successful until forty-five seconds later, there’s a second knock on the door, and he groans, not caring how rude he probably sounds, even though they probably can’t hear him over his music, to the person on the other side of the door. He trudges across the room, look of indifference already on his face when he turns the lock and opens the door. The moment he does, he’s really regretting that he didn’t style his hair this morning and seriously, if everyone at this school looks like the person in front of him, Thomas isn’t sure he’s going to last long. Death by attractive people; it’ll be a new one.

 

“Um, hi.” Thomas clears his throat and tries again. “Can I help you with something?” The door is only three-quarters of the way open, because his room still looks kind of a mess, and he hasn’t got a chance to hang his posters yet. The boy – actually he looks pretty close to Thomas’ age so he should probably not call him that to his face – looks extremely amused by Thomas and his actions, as if he knows exactly what the shorter of the two is doing. He probably does, there’s no way Thomas is the only person to ever be bunked on his own in WICKED history. Then again he probably is, but this kid still looks severely amused.

 

“Hi, I'm Ben, and I’m on the welcoming committee for WICKED Prep. You’re,” he pauses and glances down at a clipboard that Thomas hadn’t noticed before, amused smirk coming back to his face, “Thomas Edison, aren’t you?” And now Thomas gets it, because his parents thought they were being clever when they gave him that name, but really Thomas just extremely hates it because it reminds him of his dad and he can’t change his last name to Green like his mom until he’s eighteen. Fucking council hall and their rules.

 

“I am, but I’d rather you didn’t use that last name, if it's all the same. I appreciate the welcome, or whatever, but I’ve actually still got stuff to unpack so if you don’t mind…” he trails off, allowing his request to process through the blonde-haired boys head before the other kid has barely said, ‘yeah, of course see you around,’ before he’s closing the door again and going back to his previous work. At least that’s what it sounded like he had said, Thomas couldn’t really hear over the sound of Ariana Grande singing about loving her harder. It was pretty rude of him, but he doesn’t really care all that much. He's not trying to make a good impression and he doesn’t want to be here and he seriously can’t wait for Thanksgiving break, because this is going to be the longest next two and a half months ever. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, going back to pinning the band buttons that his friends got for him from Hot Topic onto his backpack in a way that will allow just enough space for his hands on each side and onto its face; anything that’s going to keep these people as far away from him as possible.

 

-x-

He spends the next two days in his room, only leaving to grab a snack from the cafeteria once each day before ceremoniously returning to his room as soon as he’s finished eating. There aren’t very many open tables in the cafeteria, all the cliques and friends being grouped together as if they’ve known each other since they were kids – which they all probably have, because WICKED is a school for kids ages twelve and up but the kids that go here transfer directly from the elementary version of this school and so everyone probably has quite literally known each other for the entirety of their lives – with really not a lot of space for new people to sit with them. There are spots at the end of some tables, that if Thomas were maybe a little braver or cared a little more about being noticed and making friends he would have taken a seat, but he’s none of those things so he usually just munches on whatever they have that day on his way across the cafeteria and he’s usually finished by the time he reaches the door so he’ll throw his stuff away when he gets in the hallway. He plays around with his guitar and with his production equipment until it’s time for lights out, then he’ll try and study his map, using the flashlight on his phone, before giving up maybe ten minutes later and going to sleep.

 

He’ll just deal with getting around the school when the time comes.

 

-x-

 

His first official day goes about as well as he’d thought it would. He wakes up with his alarm, groaning as he pushes it to the floor, but getting out of bed nonetheless. He splashes his face with cold water from the bathroom, having showered the day before, before drying it off on his towel. He doesn’t bother using the iron the school has provided for his uniform, instead throwing it on haphazardly, shirt hanging out of the bottom of the blazer rather than tucked in, and his jacket sleeves rolled up as evenly as he could manage (see; not evenly at all), and the “nicest” pair of shoes he owned that Ms. Paige had approved of herself. She probably wouldn’t approved of the way he wore the rest of his uniform, but he really couldn’t have cared less; if this would make people leave him alone, he’d do it for as long as he could until it got him in trouble. He makes a half assed attempt at doing his tie, not tightening it around his neck, before he stands in the mirror, attempting to spike his hair to the best of his ability without it looking like he actually tried. He thinks he’s done a pretty good job, considering. He shoulders his backpack and shoves his glasses on his face, and snatches his schedule and map on the way out the door. Some of his fellow classmates are up and ready for the day, although much more neatly than he knows he is, and he ignores their incredulous stares in favor of rushing to the cafeteria to grab an apple for him to eat while he walks around looking for his morning class.

 

He can feel the obviousness of everyone staring as he makes his way down the hallway, through the café doors, while he’s in line, when he leaves the line, and while he rushes out the door. He doesn’t really care, as he’s probably pointed out many times to himself at this point, so he just continues to follow the map down the hall, to the right, pass two corners, take the stares to the third floor, turn directly left, and to room 305 for Economics. The teacher gives him a disgusted look as he introduces himself, shows her his schedule, and she points him to a seat about half way back that isn’t occupied on her seating roster. He gives her a bright smile and a thank you, ignoring her fake smile in favor of making his way to the desk and dumping his bag on the floor on the floor. He stares longingly at the clock, waiting for the bell to ring, dreading the rest of what’s guaranteed to be a very long and hectic day.

 

-x-

 

By the time the lunch bell rings, Thomas is drained of any and all energy he thought he was going to have for the day. Twice, he’d gotten lost, much to the hilarity of the students in the classrooms. Jorge had caught him in the hallway and made him tighten his tie and tuck in his shirt, much to his displeasure, but had helped Thomas get to his fourth period Pre-Calculus class, with a smile and a warning to not let Paige catch him dressed like he had been, because she’d surely have worse repercussions than giving Thomas a talking to about looking up to the part of the genius Jorge was sure he was. Thomas had cracked his first real smile since arriving to school at the man and vowed that Jorge was by far his favorite staff member he’d come into contact with since he’d arrived.

 

Like the last few days, there aren’t really any empty spaces at any of the tables in the cafeteria, so Thomas just grabs a sandwich, before he stalks out the door and heads in the direction he knows for sure will lead him to the theatre. Since food isn’t allowed in the actual theatre itself, he plops himself down next to the right door, taking a deep breath and appreciating the first real silence he’s been given since he’d started all day. He smiles a bit to himself, before digging into the sandwich so that he doesn’t waste his lunchtime. If he can get this kind of silence even just once a day, maybe going to school here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

-x-

 

“So how’s school of the overly privileged and insanely smart treating you?” Aris asked. Every other week, the students are allowed to go into the town that’s closest to WICKED for a day. Each age group is allowed to go on certain days of the week, as to not cause any trouble or anyone trying to sneak out because they’re not allowed to go. The last time, Thomas had stayed on campus, catching up on his course work and talking to Aris about convincing his and Rachel’s parents into allowing them to drive to meet Thomas, as the drive was only just over an hour long. The town was literally halfway between WICKED and home. He had cried a bit that day, soothed by Aris cooing at him through the phone, because he’d missed home and his friends so much. Thankfully, their parents had agreed and so the two boys were sat with Rachel at the local diner for the next outing. Thomas rolled his eyes and Rachel snickered behind her hand, though her eyes said that she was just as interested as Aris had been.

 

“It’s decent. I guess. I don’t know, I don’t really pay much attention to any of the people there. And they don’t pay attention to me. I go to my classes, eat lunch on my own by the theatre – because lemme tell you all how hard it is to make friends with people who have all been best friends for years, especially when you aren’t actively trying – do my homework, play around with my guitar and equipment until Silent Hour, go to bed, and repeat it all the next day. Its way less strict than I was expecting. They didn’t take my phone or iPod and I’m seriously grateful for that because I honestly don’t think I’d have lasted without being able to talk to you guys almost regularly.” His two friends roll their eyes at him, and he throws curly fries at them. “Shut up. What about you guys? How are things back home? Did you guys make the ball teams?” It’s a weak attempt at trying to justify his actions and getting the attention away from him, but his friends comply anyway.

 

They spend the better part of the hour talking and catching up as if they hadn’t seen each other for years and not just a little under a month. It’s great, how easily they complement and get reused to each other. They’ve been best friends since they were all in diapers, their mothers meeting in Child Birth class and had stayed close after each one had their baby, causing an instant friendship between their kids once they were old enough to know what it meant. They’d been inseparable ever since. Eventually they leave and walk around town, going in and out of shops, and buying a few souvenirs from the more ridiculous ones. Thomas gets a pack of blank CD’s to save his mixes on and even a set of headphones so that he isn’t always disturbing his dorm neighbors with what he’s working on that day, which he’s sure they consider nothing but noise anyways. At the end of the day, they’re hugging each other tightly, promising to find some way to Skype the next opportunity they have, before Rachel and Aris have to start heading home so they can make it in time for dinner. It makes Thomas sad to watch them go, but he takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from his face as he gets in his own car and heads back to campus, himself. He skips dinner that night, opting to try out his new headset, and the sound is great.

 

If he cries himself to sleep, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.

 

-x-

 

It’s two days later that Thomas’ school life gets completely turned around. It’s Thursday, which means that after lunch he’s got a free period and he was planning on going back to his room for nap before he has to head to his double Chemistry class. He’s just finished his food for the day, mac-and-cheese his favorite, when someone suddenly bursts from inside the theatre, tumbling over Thomas’ outstretched legs in the process. The kid doesn’t seem phased much besides groaning a little bit while still chanting about how “I got the part! I can’t believe I got the part! This is amazing; I’ll get to be in a play with Newt! I can’t believe it.” Thomas scrambles to help the kid roll over and props him against the wall. The kid’s much shorter than Thomas is, a little chubby, with unruly curly hair.

 

He’s the most adorable thing Thomas has probably ever seen, and the look of excitement on his face gives off a very obvious vibe of innocence and youth, and it makes Thomas want to protect the kid from all things bad in the world. “Hey, kid, you okay? I’m so sorry, are you hurt?” It’s pretty obvious that he isn’t, by the huge smile on his face, but Thomas can’t help but be sure. He’s finally stopped chanting about getting whatever part he got, so at least he can answer Thomas’ questions. “What’s your name kid?” The kid doesn’t answer right away, eyes wide and a smile even wider on his face as he stares at Thomas. He seems to shake himself out of his stupor a few long minutes later, and holds his hand out to Thomas.

 

“Name’s Chuck,” the boy – Chuck – tells him, eyebrows raised as the older boy hesitantly holds his own hand out and clasps Chucks. “You must be new, because I’ve never seen you around, and I’ve met everybody since school started. What grade are you in? How old are you, even? Have you met Newt yet? He’s one of the best drama students here, and I get to be in a play, with him. It’s so cool, dude. But anyways, are you new? What’s your name?” He smiles again, and Thomas would be a little freaked out if he didn’t seem so genuine about wanting to know who Thomas was.

 

“I’m Thomas,” he pauses, and then realizes there were other questions Chuck asked, “Um, yes I’m new, just transferred here this year. I’m a junior, I’m seventeen, and uh, no I haven’t met Newt. Must be cool, though, I guess. Considering you’ve been going on about him for ten minutes.” Chuck’s smile gets impossibly wider at Thomas’ joke and he laughs, loud and full and it warms Thomas’ heart. This kid reminds Thomas of the little brother Thomas always wanted but never got to have, and he’ll be damned if he pushes away the one person that’s actually tried to make contact with him since he got here. They realize that they’re still shaking hands around the same time as each other and immediately burst into laughter. It’s such a small thing, something he would maybe have a laugh about with Aris, and it makes his heart ache a little bit more, but in like, a good way. As their laughter dies down, Thomas wipes the tears from his eyes from laughing too hard, and sees Chuck doing the same.

 

He smiles at the younger boy, happy to have made a friend so easily.

 

-x-

From there, Chuck becomes as good of a friend to Thomas as his friends back home. Chuck eats lunch with him by the theatre and helps him learn the layout of the school. Thomas helps Chuck with his math homework and teaches him how the program and equipment he uses to mix music works. They spend most of their free time together, any of their overlapping free periods either spent outside by the pond doing homework or in Thomas’ room while they argue about whether or not DC is better than Marvel. They’ve become almost like brothers, Chuck’s extra energy and obvious youth both through his actions and the obviousness of the kid's age helps keep Thomas from becoming too serious and stressed all the time, and Thomas assists Chuck in memorizing his lines for the end of semester play. They’re pretty inseparable, which is why, when Thomas stops dead in his tracks while watching the Track Team practice, Chuck runs right into his back, the two of them barely managing not to face plant in the grass.

 

“Thomas, what the hell, man?” The younger boy asks, incredulously, but Thomas isn’t really paying attention; because one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen is laughing in the most beautiful way possible, and Thomas doesn’t believe in love at first sight but holy shit, would he change for someone that looks like that. He's obviously the captain; the entire team seems to deflect to him and look for his approval. He gives approving pats to everyone and it looks as if he gives effective criticism to everyone else that needs it. He’s got strong arms, and his hair looks effortlessly styled and his legs, god his calf muscles could have been carved my Michelangelo. “Thomas? Thomas, bro what’s your problem?”

 

Thomas shakes himself out of his stupor and says, unintentionally, “Who's that?" He doesn't actually specify who means and by the time he realizes that it's probably really creepy to stare at the track team for the extended period in which he's done so, theirs a loud whistle that must signal the end of practice and the team is walking in his and Chuck's direction, towards what is probably the locker room. He can feel his eyes widening comically as he jerks out of his stupor and turns toward Chuck trying to push him in the opposite direction. “Never mind, you know what? Forget I said any—” But Chuck seems to be having none of that, smirk forming on his face. Shit.

 

“Who Minho? He’s the Track Captain, which you've probably guessed, as well as the best running back this school’s football team has ever seen. He’s really good friends with Newt and Fry.” His smirk grows and it takes all of Thomas’ willpower not to cuff the back of his head. “Why Thomas? Y’like him?” Thomas hates Chuck; he takes back any nice thing he’s said about him ever.

 

“I hate you. I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.” Chuck laughs at him like he’s the funniest looking thing he’s ever seen, and Thomas pouts. “Stop it, Chuck. You cannot blame me for being attracted to that!” Thomas practically screeches pointing indiscreetly towards the team member in question. Chuck is still laughing because he is the worst, but he figures they’re far enough away said team captain and other team mates that it probably doesn't matter. He tries to discreetly look over his shoulder and quickly takes in the perfect arm and calf muscles, and, because today is just Thomas' day, Minho is tugging his sweaty track shirt over his head, and holy shit. Thomas quickly redirects his attention back to his still sniggering friend.

 

“Chuck.” Thomas whines, and his friend composes himself enough to give him somewhat of a sympathetic look before grabbing his wrist and pulling them back to the dorms. It’s almost time for dinner anyway, no point wasting anymore time outside. (If he's disappointed when he turns around and Minho is nowhere to be found, only Chuck can roll his eyes and call Thomas out on it).

 

-x-

Wednesday starts out about as normal as any other day; Thomas trudges through getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and doing his hair before he goes to the cafeteria to get breakfast and then heads to his morning math class. He starts getting a headache during Econ, and is really relieved that lunch is next because he cannot wait to stop listening to these people go on and on about whatever unit it is that they’re on leading into the end of the first half of term. Lunch is where everything goes wrong, though, of course.

 

Although it’s probably more that things decide to change rather than things go “wrong”.

 

Lunch starts out normally; he gets his lunch, meets Chuck outside of the cafeteria, then they walk to their usual spot outside the theatre doors to eat. The thing that changes, however, is that maybe ten minutes after they sit down, there’s two pair of legs standing in front of them. Thomas pauses mid-chew and follows the line of the legs past the girl’s uniform, and is looking at two of the prettiest people he’s ever seen (seriously what is up with this school and their student’s genetics lining up perfectly). The face looking down at him belongs to what he assumes is a girl, though he’s not one to force cisnormative pronouns at people that don’t want them. They’re smiling at him with a glint in their eye and Thomas involuntarily swallows around the bite of grilled cheese in his mouth, causing him, of course, to choke on his food. Chuck slams his hand on Thomas’ back as he down his water bottle, the strangers in front of them giggling to themselves, like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen. Thomas can’t blame them, that’s usually the reaction he gets out of people if their initial reaction isn’t pure disgust. Once he can breathe again, he clears his throat and looks back up at the skirt clad people that have been brought into his life by what must be God; honestly he does not deserve to be surrounded by such attractive people but he could get used to this. “Uh, can we help you?” His mind immediately goes back to when he met Ben for just a split second, before he’s tuning in so he can listen to what he hopes are going to be his new friends.

 

“Hi, I’m Teresa,” the one with the curly black hair and bright blue eyes introduces herself, “and the creeptastic brunette behind me is Brenda. We’re the captain and co-captain cheer squad.” The other girl – he’s got to ask so he doesn’t get punched in the face – waves at him with a smile on her face before she goes back to tapping her finger to her chin apprehensively. Apparently them being cheer captains is supposed to mean something, because Teresa looks like she’s waiting for him to say something back, but he’s still a little awestruck so he just sits there with his mouth hanging open and staring at the new people in his life with raised eyebrows. Chuck is probably snickering under his breath at Thomas, but it wouldn’t be the first time so he just ignores him.

 

“Umm, I’m Thomas? That’s Chuck; we’re not captain of any squad but we're happy for anyone who is?” Chuck snorts and Brenda rolls her eyes; but Teresa seems pleased that he’s decided to start some game that he didn’t mean to start and she’s dragging him to his feet and down the hall. Thomas tries to scramble backwards for Chuck, but Brenda is already dragging him with her. Chuck looks so happy, Thomas is afraid the other boy’s face is going to split in half. “Um, where are we going, because I’m not really into the whole joining a cult thing?” Brenda giggles behind him, and Teresa just doesn’t answer.

 

Brenda seems to take pity on him, though. “Because my girlfriend doesn’t know how to make friends properly, she and I are taking you to eat lunch with us and the rest of our friends. You know Newt and everyone, right Chuck? We’ve seen you two around campus and since you guys don’t hang out with anyone else, we’re snatching you up before anyone can become friends with you before we can.” Thomas looks back and she smiles at him, small and a little embarrassed, but he just grins back slightly to let her know there are no hard feelings. They push into the cafeteria, and it feels like everyone looks their way as soon as they walk through the door. It makes Thomas feel extremely exposed, so he ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, cheeks heating up almost instantly. Teresa chuckles at him, and then they’re moving again, to a table in the center of the room that must be reserved for the older jocks because he recognizes a bunch of kids in his grade; especially one very buff, very attractive, and very much ignoring anything that isn't a bulky dude that can only be one of his football teammates and a guy with weird eyebrows; Minho.

 

Thomas tries not to let that get to him as he’s shoved into a seat next to a kid with reddish-blonde hair and Chuck is shoved down across from him, Teresa and Brenda sitting next to their respectable captives. Chuck looks completely in awe of the fact that he’s sitting at what must be the “Cool Kids Table.” Thomas smiles at him in grudging agreement.

 

“Seems like Teresa got her way again, huh Brenda?” The blonde kid next to him says before he turns his head and yells down the table, “Frypan you owe me five bucks and your dessert for the next three days!” He turns his attention back to Thomas and holds out his hand, “Name’s Newt, Greenie. Nice to finally meet you.” There’s a soft smile playing on his face and Thomas can already tell the two of them will be great friends. Maybe not best friends, that title belongs to Aris and Rachel, but definitely really close friends. “I’m Thomas, but it seems you guys pretty much know who I am, huh?”

 

He eyes Teresa when he says, “You sure this isn’t a cult?” There are a couple snorts and chuckles along the length of the table, and Thomas smiles to himself for being to settle into this group of people so quickly, it’s not something he’s been able to do since befriending Aris and Rachel. He misses that, fitting in somewhere, feeling like he’s important. It’s obviously not going to happen with these people after ten minutes, but it’s always more possible with each passing second that Teresa smirks at him, that Brenda talks animatedly with Chuck about his part in the play, that Newt sits there and makes sure he’s included in as much of any conversation he’s roped into when he isn’t directly talking to Thomas. He ducks his head and smiles to himself, not quite ready to show how emotional he can really be to these new people just yet. He feels a knee nudge his under the table, and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Teresa, just nudges back and continues to eat what he thinks is supposed to be sloppy joe. He chances a look in Minho’s direction though, and finds the other boy very pointedly looking in the other direction, talking to Gally, the kid wish the weird eyebrows, and Ben about strategy, while the redhead doses in and out of consciousness on his shoulder.

 

Thomas tries not to let it bother him; he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thomas completely zones out, the pressure of Minho's foot pressed against his and that bright smile directed at him stuck in his mind until it's time to go back to campus before they miss curfew. He doesn't really notice or remember hugging his friends goodbye or them hugging his new friends or even the drive back to campus, and as he's lying in bed, he realizes one thing;_
> 
> _He is thoroughly and completely fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! thank you guys for being so patient with me and not updating! school started this week and i've had events and back to school projects leading up to it. i appreciate the feedback that some of you have chosen to give me. enjoy this next chapter :)

The new seating arrangement for lunch becomes a regular thing; instead of heading to the theater after they’ve gotten their lunches, Thomas and Chuck head to sit with Teresa, Newt, and the rest of their friends. Most of them ignore Thomas’ general existence – yes, Minho included, much to Teresa’s amusement because she’s very perceptive, though she never calls him on it in front of their friends – but Newt, Brenda, Teresa, Winston, and Frypan give him more attention than he was expecting from these people anyway. They all study together in Thomas’ room on the days that none of them have practice, because he’s got the most space having a room made for two people, but not having to share with anybody. They play pick-up games of touch football, and everyone helps Newt and Chuck rehearse lines for their play that opens the first weekend of December. When it comes time for Thanksgiving break, Thomas has eight new numbers saved, everyone's Skype usernames, and times for them all to group chat.

 

The time he doesn’t spend with Aris and Rachel he spends texting his new friends and reviewing their holiday homework and new video games that came out that they want to try to smuggle in when they get back. It’s the most fun Thomas has ever had with a group of people that weren’t his family or his two best friends, and he’s never been so anxious to go back to school in his entire life. On the Saturday of break, the day before he’s supposed to return to school, he’s on Skype with Teresa and Newt, and he’s never wanted to reach through a screen and ring someone’s neck as much as he wants to do to Teresa in this moment. “So,” she says, smirk pulling on her face, and Thomas already knows where this is going, “what are you gonna do about your crush on Minho when we get back to school?" Thomas barely has time to open his mouth to object before she rolls right over his protest, "I’m sick of you looking like a lost puppy every time he ignores you or doesn’t invite you to hang out with Newt, Gally, and the rest of them.” Her smirk has softened considerably, but there’s still a hardness to her words that shatters all illusions that he’s going to be able to avoid this topic. Newt looks a little bit confused, if not the slightest bit amused, but he’s got a soft, understanding smile on his face.

 

“Tommy, you are going to do something about it, aren’t you? Teresa’s right, pining isn’t a very good look on you.” He’s laughing a bit by the end of his statement, but not mockingly so, and Thomas is grateful that he’s friends with these people that he can joke about his problems with without them being huge jerks about it. He squirms a bit in his seat, guitar suddenly feeling too heavy and wrong in his hands. He strums at the strings a bit, avoiding the inevitable for as long as he can, before Teresa clears her throat, obviously annoyed at his poor attempt of evading the question. He looks up from his E chord to see her with her eyebrows raised and Newt grinning at him encouragingly.

 

“I don’t know, guys.” He mumble, changing to a C minor chord, “He doesn’t really seem to want to give me the time of day; it’d be a waste of time, to actually try and do something about it, not to mention humiliating.” He changes to an A, “I’d rather not completely ruin my reputation at school because the most popular kid at school decided to milk my crush just to humiliate me later on.” He winces as the words leave his mouth, because he knows better than to think Minho would be that much of an asshole. Gally might, just because he’s Gally, but Minho wouldn’t.

 

“Are we talking about Thomas’s completely pitiful crush on Minho? Because that’s something we should totally sort out.” Winston’s voice through the speakers make Thomas jump, but he smiles at his friend despite the dig he made about Thomas’ apparently really obvious crush.

 

“You should write him a song man, it’d be totally romantic.”

 

“Yeah, Winston, because Thomas here is definitely the romantic type,” Thomas raises his hand in mock salute as a greeting to Frypan. He’s going to ignore the fact that apparently everyone knows about his huge, school-girl crush he’s been trying to harbor for the past three months. He’s not surprised really, because his friends aren’t stupid, but he’s really hoping Minho hasn’t been that perceptive. He lets his friends talk for a bit, playing around with his guitar. Honestly, the idea of writing a song has passed his mind before, but he’s not really ready for the emotional backlash of that going completely wrong and humiliating himself. He glances up at the computer, smiling at his friends and the way Teresa is animatedly listing all the good things that could come from Thomas confessing his love in song, while Winston nods his head in agreement, Newt just rolls his eyes and looks amused, and Frypan shakes his head.

 

Brenda’s face pops up a few minutes later and immediately demands everyone shut up. “As much fun as it is teasing Thomas for the romantic skills he lacks, I think you all are underestimating the power of love. Though that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” She pauses for dramatic effect, winking into the camera when everyone either groans or rolls their eyes.

 

“Then what are you bloody here to talk about, Brenda. Come on, spit it out.” No one’s really surprised that Newt broke first, he hates not knowing things; which actually explains why he knew about Thomas’ crush now that he thinks about it. Thomas really should get less observational friends. They’re ruining his life. “Rude,” Brenda says, no real heat behind it, but before Newt can retaliate, she continues,

 

“So, we all know how our dear Thomas here is a music genius, right?” Hums and words of agreement are passed around. “Well, don't you guys think he should participate in the annual Poem and Song Writing Competition we have every year. He’d be great for it.” Everyone is silent for a moment, trying to process whether they agree or not with Brenda’s statement. Then, they all start talking at once, much to Thomas’s dismay.

 

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of—”

 

“Bloody brilliant, you are Br—”

 

“He’d still have to be somewhat roman—”

 

“Can everyone just shut up?!” Thomas raises his voice a little on the last word. His friends all seem extremely amused, though they do shut up. All of their eyebrows are raised and Thomas suppresses a shudder at how in sync all of his friends are. “While I appreciate your consultation about my life,” Newt rolls his eyes, Thomas flips him off and goes on, “don’t you think I should get a say in whether or not I even want to participate in this contest? What makes you all think I even write music?” He very pointedly stops playing his guitar and doesn’t look towards his sound editing equipment he got for his birthday last month. It doesn’t really do much to hide how obvious his lie is. Frypan calls him out on it.

 

“Thomas, dude, I’m like eighty percent sure the entire school knows how much you write and love music. And don’t act like we don’t know that the drama teacher asked you to help compose the music for the spring play, we aren’t stupid.” Thomas bows his head to hide his blush, “Yeah, yeah tough guy we’re very proud of you. But in all honesty, this is something your good at. You should sign up.”

 

“And if you want to find a way for Minho to actually notice you,” Winston says rolling his eyes, their friends are giggling like Thomas is missing out on some secret, “then maybe this is it. Show him what he’s missing out on, man.” Everyone’s smirks become less harsh and melt into encouraging smiles accompanied with nods. Thomas doesn’t really have words for how warm his heart feels; how great it is to have all these people that want to be friends with him and that want good things for him and who care about him. He doesn’t really know how to express his feelings without tripping over himself if it isn’t in song or music, so he’s not really sure how to move forward here.

 

So he smiles, small and simple, a gleam in his eye when he says, “Yeah, okay. I’ll enter the contest.” There are whoops and _'atta boy'_   thrown around for a moment before they all settle down and go over the math homework they were assigned over break. There are friendly spats over which persons equation was right and ‘how the hell did you get that, my answer is completely different’ and just general friendly banter before they’ve all got to log off so they can repack to get to WICKED tomorrow. When Thomas falls into bed that night it’s with a smile on his face and a flutter in his heart. Maybe his friends were right; maybe he does have a chance after all.

 

-X-

 

The first thing Thomas does when he gets to school the next morning is go to the administration office to fill out the forms he needs to complete to actually be in the competition. He reads the rules and regulations – no vulgar language, minimum of twenty-four lines if it’s a poem, no less than two minutes and forty-five seconds for a song, if your submitting a song, you must include a recording of you singing the song with the composed music, etc. – signs the dotted line, and is off to his dorm with a smile on his face, with a sense of “nothing bad could possibly happen today” rolling off of him in waves. He signed up for this contest grudgingly, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited about it. When he gets to his dorm though, he stops; because of all the people he’d be willing to bet money on welcoming him back after break, Gally, is definitely not on that list.

 

The taller boy is leaning on Thomas’s door frame, head ducked and he’s staring at the floor in what can only be categorized as astute concentration. Thomas slowly continues towards his dorm, shifting his guitar more on his shoulder and his music equipment to one hand, stopping only when he’s right in front of Gally. The other boy startles at Thomas’s sudden appearance but says nothing, instead nodding in acknowledgement and then nodding at the door. This probably isn’t going to end well. Thomas unlocks his door, much easier than when he’d done it his first day here and strides through, leaving the door open for Gally to come in behind him. He sets his bag with his equipment down on the desk and his clothes by the dresser before plopping down in his chair and gesturing for Gally to take the bed. The older boy hesitates just a moment, a furrow in his brow before he complies and sits down, albeit rather stiffly.

 

Thomas just rolls his eyes. “Dude, I promise I don’t have like, cooties or anything. Relax, scoot back, and take your shoes off if you want to. You came to me, so I can sit here until Lunch if that's how long it's going to take you to say what you want to say to me. I don’t have anything better to do today.” Gally’s scowl deepens, but he complies with Thomas’ request; his shoulders relax and he moves around on the bed until his back is pressed in the corner where the bed meets the wall. He crosses and uncrosses his legs multiple times before he settles down and finally looks back at Thomas. Thomas waves his hand in front of him before going back to playing with his guitar. “Spit it out, man.”

 

“You like Minho.” is Gally’s curt response, and Thomas promptly screws up his E chord and drops his guitar, and his jaw, on the ground. He looks at Gally with wide eyes, opening his mouth to deny it when Gally lifts his hand, “Don’t try to deny it Thomas, our entire table knows, well except Minho it seems like, so today is your lucky day.” Thomas opens his mouth to reply, but Gally keeps going, obviously trying to make this as not awkward as possible. “It is your lucky day, because I’m here to tell you that he likes you back. Please, don’t interrupt I’m almost done. He likes you back, and he has for a while, the shuck idiot. He’s just afraid you’ll turn him down, because when you first got here you acted like you were too good for anyone.” Thomas winces, because he knows it’s true. He ignored as much social contact as he could his first month and he was sure he was never going to make friends; well until now, of course. He didn’t realize he’d come across as a jerk, though and the thought makes him frown. “Obviously, we all know you aren’t actually like that now, but Minho’s had it pretty rough on the dating side of things. So either you do something about it, and stop acting like a lost puppy every time he ignores you,” Gally gets off the bed and walks towards the door, “or you end whatever thing the others have talked you into doing. Because, I will not be happy if my best friend gets his heart broken again; do you understand?” Thomas nods, wide eyed.

 

Gally’s face softens, “I know it doesn’t seem like he wants to get to know you, but that’s just a front. He’s just nervous is all.”

 

And with that, the taller boy walked out the door, leaving Thomas to ask himself what the fuck just happened?

 

-X-

 

The week they get back from break is a week they get to go to town, so Thomas makes plans with Teresa to drive Winston and Newt while she takes Brenda and Frypan. They discuss all the final arrangements the day before they leave, confirming with everyone else who they’re riding with. Gally and Ben don’t say anything about the group suddenly splitting ways and hanging with other people, but Minho looks slightly confused, if not a little bit offended. Thomas doesn’t blame him, allows himself to feel bad for a few seconds before it doesn’t bother him anymore, instead hugging everyone goodbye and going to his room to work on his song. No one questions him, but when Thomas chances a look in Minho’s direction, there’s a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. Thomas tries not to feel a little proud of himself; he refuses to use the knowledge of Minho having a crush on him, though he doesn’t really believe it, against the other boy. Nothing that Thomas does is in any way on purpose. Thomas spends the entirety of both his free periods coming up with a starting place on his song, happy with himself when he leaves and goes to math that day.

 

Town Day is a lot of fun; Rachel and Aris were able to convince their parents to let them come again, so Thomas introduces them to the new friends he's made. Everyone gets along really well and Thomas is really happy that no one hates each other. Rachel fits in perfectly with Brenda and Teresa and the three of them run off as soon as introductions are done. Aris gets along well with Winston and Frypan, the three of them going to the local arcade while Thomas stays with Newt, the two of them hanging out in the park with guitars and sheet music. Thomas didn’t ask Newt to help him, but he’s sure glad that he is. By midday, the two of them have the chorus down, with maybe a few altercations that can be made later. They meet up with everyone at the same diner that Thomas ate at with Aris and Rachel just a few months before, taking up almost an entire quarter of the diner. They’re laughing, like they’ve all been friends for years, and Thomas just smiles to himself because this, this is something he’s wanted for so long, and he finally has it. Right after the waitress has taken their orders, the bell on the door rings, and Thomas nearly chokes on his drink as Minho walks toward their table with Ben and Gally right on his heels. Aris pats his back a couple times, sympathetic smile on his face, before turning back to the new comers, face suddenly becoming closed off and unreadable. Thomas knows that look, and he’s really hoping the good day isn’t wasted.

 

“Hey guys,” Minho says when they get to the table, “Got room for three more?” Everyone looks at Thomas for just the smallest second, and he nods, motioning for them to scoot around and pull over an extra table and a few chairs. “What, Thomas your new best friend or something?” Minho says as he slides into the seat directly across from Thomas. Gally winces and sends an apologetic look Thomas’ direction. Thomas just nods in acknowledgement. He’s joking, Thomas knows, but it makes him feel a bit uneasy, and he refocuses his gaze toward the table, suddenly not very hungry.

 

“Slim it, Minho. Just because you ignore him and everyone else doesn’t, doesn’t mean that you can suddenly get upset because we’re actually trying to be his friend.” Newt speaks up from his right, arm draped over Thomas’ shoulder. Aris grabs his hand under the table and squeezing comfortingly. Thomas squeezes back. Minho's smirk falls a bit, taking in that no one's taking it as the joke it should be, and Thomas sighs, elbowing Newt, and quirking an eyebrow, He must convey his message thoroughly enough because Newt slumps in his seat and sends an apologetic smile Minho's way. "Sorry, mate. Tommy and I are working hard on his song and we can't quite get the transitions to run properly. Didn't mean to snap at you." Everyone else seems to take it at face value, and they make room more obligingly and with soft smiles for the newcomers. Fry and Harriet, Fry's best friend from home that's started hanging with them more lately, and Jeff, have split down the middle, leaving the seats in front of him, Aris, and Newt open for Minho, Gally, and Ben; and because the universe thinks Thomas' life is a joke, Minho is directly in from of him. Aris squeezes his hand once more before letting go and turning back to his conversation with Winston about aerodynamics that Thomas doesn't know shit about.

 

Lunch continues as if nothing happened. After a few minutes of awkwardly prodding around what topics were and weren't to be spoken about, conversation easily sprung back up, people making conscious efforts about including the three new faces and not-so-subtly making sure Thomas was comfortable. Gally keeps sending glances his way that are simultaneously threatening and encouraging, and it's a bit disconcerting how important Gally's approval of him seems to be. Thomas catches his eye once and nods in understanding before tuning back into Frypan's explanation as to why The Hulk is obviously the best Avenger. Everyone gets in on this topic.

 

"He turns into an indestructible giant, how is he not the coolest?" Harriet punches him in the soldier for his raised voice, but is smiling fondly his way, regardless.

 

"Okay, but Captain America," Newt says, and Aris and Winston simultaneously hold out hands to high five. "Accelerated speed, healing, and agility, and the dude packs a serious punch." There are hums of agreement and disagreement all around the table, and then;

 

"There's no way he and Iron Man aren't banging." Minho says with a very serious look on his face, causing Thomas to very nearly snort in both amusement and astonishment at the easy way the line fits into the conversation. There are more hums of agreement and Aris and Gally are laughing at how ridiculous Thomas probably looks while Newt pats him on the back comfortingly while Thomas wipes at his face and bats at Aris' wandering hand. He assures everyone that he's fine, because yes, he knows that when he chokes like that he sounds like a dying dog. Chatter starts back up around them and the girls are arguing with the boys how totally sexist it is that there's only one female Avenger in a group of six and it's easy and relaxing and Thomas finds himself sitting back and just enjoying being surrounded by his friends. Someone kicks his foot and when he looks up, Minho is looking back at him, a soft smile on his face and an eyebrow raised in question. Thomas falters for exactly two seconds before he nudges the other's foot back and nods his head. Minho positively beams at him, before going back to his previous conversation. Thomas completely zones out, the pressure of Minho's foot pressed against his and that bright smile directed at him stuck in his mind until it's time to go back to campus before they miss curfew. He doesn't really notice or remember hugging his friends goodbye or them hugging his new friends or even the drive back to campus, and as he's lying in bed, he realizes one thing;

 

He is thoroughly and completely fucked.

 

-x-

 

The thing is, though, is that him and Minho actually become proper friends after that. It's as if every cold shoulder and failed attempt at conversation between the two of them never even happened. Thomas isn't sure if he should be happy or miserable. Because while they've smoothed over the rough patches of their initial poor attempt at a friendship, and he's though he's glad they worked that out, that's all they really have; a friendship. Minho, Gally, and Ben start coming to study sessions with everyone else in Thomas' room, Minho hangs with him and Chuck when everyone else is busy with practice or couple-related things, much to Chuck's amusement. He tries to help Thomas with his song once, but after their first argument of Thomas explaining that yes, he does trust Minho, he's just really self-conscious about his work, and yes, Minho might be a smidgen jealous that Newt knows what's going on with the song he doesn't, Thomas takes pity on him and tells him that when it's all recorded and edited to where it needs to be, then yes, Minho can listen. Newt and Gally look on equal parts amused and concerned the whole time, and Thomas makes a mental note to keep an eye out for any Newt schemes to come.

 

Lunch seating arrangements change -- he fucking knew it -- to where Thomas suddenly always finds himself either sitting in front of or next to Minho for the following two weeks, and he makes another mental not to punch anyone -- Newt -- the next time he gets a chance. He and Minho are always touching in some way, whether it be intentional or not; their elbows, their thighs, their feet, and he has a feeling everyone knows what's going on, no matter how much he protests and throws things at them when the other boy is present. Opening weekend for Newt's and Chuck's play comes and goes and Thomas is so overwhelmingly proud of Chuck that when he goes to town the following Tuesday, he buys him a complete set of all of Shakespeare's plays and promptly doesn't cry when he gives it to him the next day.

 

Midterms close in and between that and trying to finish the final editing on his song to turn in by the deadline, Thomas goes four days without sleep before Minho -- Thomas isn't thinking about it either, don't worry -- practically shoves him into bed and forces him to take a nap. When Thomas wakes, there's a blanket covering the two of them and Minho's arm is draped across his waist while Thomas drools rather unattractively on Minho's collarbone where his head is tucked into the other boy's neck. He gives himself just a moment of panic before Minho's arm tightens around him for a brief second and he's murmuring 'stop thinking' in his ear, and Thomas falls back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is still dedicated to my [brofriend angelo](http://illbeyourbrucelee.tumblr.com) so please go give him love. Until next time ! :*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m glad you don’t hate me. Would make asking you out a lot harder,” before falling right back to sleep._
> 
> _Thomas freezes like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, eyes widening as he looks down at the other boy’s sleeping form. His mind is racing and he tries not to think too much into it, swallowing thickly at the run of emotions going on in his head. There’s no way he really meant it, Minho was tired and spewing things at random. Of course Thomas didn’t hate him that much was true, but the possibility of Minho wanting to ask him out, even with the knowledge of what Gally had told him all those weeks ago? That didn’t even make the slightest bit of sense. Thomas sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing further into the pillows and sheets and continuing to trace the pattern he’d mapped out on Minho’s back._
> 
> _“I could never hate you,” he whispers into the top of Minho’s head, lightly pressing a kiss in the same spot before letting sleep overcome him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i'm back again! i'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to get to the third part of this story. Writer's block has been horrible and i've been really focussed on school and getting all my homework done. I hope you all are still interested in reading :(
> 
> i'm going to go ahead and warn you the you all are probably going to hate me at the end of this chapter, so please save all of your profanity and questions until the end. enjoy ! :)

No one lets him get that far gone again, and Minho is always there to glare him into giving in to taking a break or a nap or just hanging out with everyone without his equipment or review work. He and Minho spend a lot more one on one time together, Thomas helping Minho with Econ and Minho helping Thomas with Biology. The next Town Trip they take, Minho and Thomas practically spend the entire time in each other's back pockets; it's the last trip before break and they're trying to decide what gifts to get their friends while Minho keeps his hands in Thomas' back pockets for warmth while Thomas wears Minho's scarf because he's an idiot and Minho said he wasn't that cold anyway. The last week of school before Christmas break is hectic and blurry at the same time that it's soothing and slow.

 

He finishes the editing on his song with Newt on Monday, making one copy for the official judges of the competition to review over the holiday and the first couple weeks of January, and a copy for Minho, because he promised no matter how nervous it makes him to share his work. His Econ exam is on Monday, his Bio midterm is on the Tuesday and his History and Math midterms are on Wednesday. Thursday would have been his Music final but since he entered to the Song Writing Competition, he's excused from the exam and uses that time to study for his Gender Studies exam he has Friday that Teresa is proud of him for taking. Minho comes in half way through Thomas' study time and forces him to eat something before he zones out again.

 

Minho sticks around for the rest of the day, and lounges on the bed while quizzing Thomas off of his study guide, Thomas' head resting in his lap as he runs his fingers through his hair. Something happened between Minho making him take a nap and them waking up after. They're both more hands on with each other, always giving out reassuring taps on shoulders, thighs, hugging from behind, cramming together on Thomas' bed during group study sessions, Minho resting his head on Thomas' shoulder after a particularly grueling conditioning session with Coach to get ready for track since they can't use the actual field currently, though Thomas doesn't know why, the ground doesn't freeze here compared to the one horrific winter break he and his mom spent in Pennsylvania with his Aunt Paula, and haven't gone back since. They spend all their time until dinner like that, Minho with his legs stretched across the width of the bed, while Thomas lays across the length of it. It's scarily intimate and Thomas allows himself to revel in the feeling before he forces himself to get up and drag a bleary-eyed Minho to the cafeteria to eat, since he's pretty sure the other boy skipped his lunch to help Thomas.

 

When they walk through the doors, everyone from their table looks up at them, glances at their joined hands -- simultaneously he might add, which, totally weird -- and smile brighter than the sun. Minho is still bleary-eyed and not really paying attention, head resting between Thomas' shoulders, so Thomas shakes his head as discreetly as possible and watches as their faces fall as a collective before they physically compose themselves so they don't look suspicious when Minho finishes waking up. When they sit down, Minho is still clinging to his hand and doesn't lift his head from Thomas' shoulder, so Thomas uses his opposite hand to pick from the food Teresa saved for him and occasionally forcing something in Minho's mouth so that he at least has something in his stomach before he goes to bed for the night. Whatever conversation they were having before they showed up continues, though Thomas isn't paying that much attention to what's going on around him. He can feel Teresa and Newt sending him worrying glances, but ignores them in favor of gathering Minho back up and taking him back to his own room.

 

He pulls Minho's key out of his pocket, ignoring the way the other boy nuzzles into his neck as he does so, and unlocks the door. He pushes Minho inside, gently lays him down on the bed, and eases his hand out of his grip so he can tug off Minho's shoes and pull the blankets up to his chest. He starts moving away from the bed when Minho's had shoots out and lightly grips his wrist, lightly tugging Thomas back towards the bed. Thomas has about half a second to worry that he did something wrong when there's a light kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist. Thomas freezes, unsure what to do, and that’s why he’s unprepared when there’s a tug on his wrist that pulls him straight into Minho’s bed. He’s sprawled rather like a star fish, and Minho just clings to him, their rolls from that first time Minho forced Thomas to take a nap not that long ago very clearly reversed, and it makes Thomas frown. Has anyone been making sure Minho got enough sleep? That Minho wasn’t too stressed about how his grades on these mid-terms were going to affect him? Minho shifts next to him, buries his face in Thomas’ neck and clings to his shirt with a terrifyingly tight grip.

“Stay,” Minho rasps, his voice a little rough from the constant stream of quizzing he’d been helping Thomas with earlier that night. Thomas has heard that voice often, oh so often, but directed at him makes the effect ten times worse and Thomas finds himself relaxing into the sheets without second thought. It’s quiet then, the only sound in their shared space is Minho’s deep breathing and people shuffling through the halls as they prepare for the last official school day. Thomas loses himself in thought, staring drowsily at the ceiling as he idly rubs circles on Minho’s back where his arm is draped when Minho stirs again. Thomas hesitantly continues rubbing his thumb in circles, hoping this isn’t the part where the boy next to him wakes up and tells him he needs to leave, that he doesn’t need Thomas to be here. Minho burrows is face more firmly into Thomas’ chest before mumbling, “I’m glad you don’t hate me. Would make asking you out a lot harder,” before falling right back to sleep.

Thomas freezes like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, eyes widening as he looks down at the other boy’s sleeping form. His mind is racing and he tries not to think too much into it, swallowing thickly at the run of emotions going on in his head. There’s no way he really meant it, Minho was tired and spewing things at random. Of course Thomas _didn’t_ hate him that much was true, but the possibility of Minho wanting to ask him out, even with the knowledge of what Gally had told him all those weeks ago? That didn’t even make the slightest bit of sense. Thomas sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing further into the pillows and sheets and continuing to trace the pattern he’d mapped out on Minho’s back.

“I could never hate you,” he whispers into the top of Minho’s head, lightly pressing a kiss in the same spot before letting sleep overcome him.

-x-

They don’t talk about it; when they wake up the next morning, Minho just holds Thomas tightly for the slightest second before he rolls out of bed to get ready for the day. Thomas lays there staring at the ceiling just long enough to question his brain on what the fuck it thought it was doing when it told him it was okay to sleep in Minho’s room before he snaps out of it and heads out. He leaves a note – _sorry I couldn’t stay; lots of packing 2 do 2 go home; see you @ brkfst_ _:)_ _x –_ before he slips his shoes on and hurriedly makes his way out the door and to his dorm. His mind is racing the entire time he’s packing his things, and he isn’t really sure what to make of anything.

He wants what Minho said to be true, his heart flutters at the chance of actually _being_ with Minho, as totally cliché as it sounds, but Thomas just knows that he isn’t that lucky. He has mountains of issues that he never thought he’d have to put on someone else, and if there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve that kind of set-back, it’s Minho. He shakes his head to clear it, and finishes packing – see; slamming – the last of his things into his boxes and suitcases, taking them out to his car before he returns inside to grab the two CDs – one labeled _‘Lyric Contest_ ’ the other labeled _‘Minho’_ – on his desk. Sunglasses still on, he runs by the administrative office to drop one off with Jorge as his submission, and tucks the other case in his back pocket.

When he pushes into the cafeteria a few minutes later, all his friends are there, the loudest people in the entire room. No one is actually sitting properly in a seat, not that the Cafeteria Heads seem to care today, but it makes Thomas smile; Teresa’s draped over Brenda’s back, both of them on top of the table, Newt’s head is in Brenda’s lap, while his feet are propped across Frypan’s lap, Winston and Chuck are talking excitedly about something on the other side of Brenda and Teresa, and Ben, Gally, and Minho are at the very end, heads all bent together, obviously discussing something serious. Thomas furrows his brow in confusion and starts to make his way to their end of the table when suddenly Newt materializes out of thin fucking air, and gives him a heart attack. Newt smiles sadly at him, and Thomas doesn’t know why until a pretty girl with strawberry-blonde hair shows up over the British boy’s shoulder and practically drapes herself over Minho’s back. The tension in Minho’s back immediately evaporates and a smile overcomes his face as the newcomer buries her face in Minho’s neck.

Thomas can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but he can’t hear anything. There’s a blackness forming around his sight, but he can see Newt’s worried face as he tries to get Thomas’s attention and calm him down. He feels like he can’t breathe as he pushes away from Newt’s hold his shoulder, slowly making his way backwards and back out the door of the cafeteria. He can’t believe he was so _stupid_ , actually thinking that Minho could _really_ like somebody like Thomas. He knew everything that had happened last night had been too good to be true, and he feels dumb actually letting himself believe that what had been developing between them had been something _real._

More of his friends have made their way over to him, trying to get him to relax, no doubt, but he just can’t _breathe._ He shoves himself back from everyone and runs out the door, letting the sounds of his friend’s muffled voices fade into nonexistence as he makes his way through the halls as quickly as he can without drawing attention to himself. He makes as many turns and repeats actions multiple times so that no one could possibly follow him and by the time he’s done making his laps around school, his vision has returned all the way and his breathing has slowed, so he makes his way to his car, and doesn’t even think about going back to apologize to his friends. He just needs to _leave._ He shoots Aris a text to tell him that he’s leaving and ignores the messages and calls everyone else – even Chuck – has sent him.

He just needs some time to get over himself, and stop being such a baby. Everything will be okay after the break.

He doesn’t even realize he’s dropped the CD he made for Minho, and at this point, he doesn’t really care.

-x-

Winter Break pretty much sucks. Don’t get Thomas wrong, he’s happy to be home for a few weeks, and he’s happy to see Aris and Rachel again for the first time since that day they went to Town with everyone almost a month ago, but he can’t get the sight of Minho and the strawberry-blonde out of his head. He’s happy that the other boy has someone in his life that makes him feel so loose and like himself, of course he is, but he’s just a little bit disappointed that it didn’t end up being him, that all that time they spent together might not have been as important or influencing in that way. It’s probably a really stupid assumption to make, but he’s moping so he can assume all he wants.

The first few days are the worst – in a very relative sense of the term. He stays in his room all day unless he goes downstairs for dinner, which isn’t often since his mom works long hours and Thomas can’t cook for shit. He mixes more music and starts drafting ideas for the spring musical to show the drama teacher when he gets back to school. When he can’t get out of his head enough to do that he goes on runs, those usually lasting for a better part of the day before he realizes he’s been out for hours and should maybe take a break. He doesn’t answer anyone’s texts or calls except to tell Newt that he’s fine and for everyone to just leave him be. He doesn’t talk to Rachel or Aris those first few days, and that, honestly, is what gets him in trouble.

It happens that first Friday, he’s lost in writing when his doorbell rings. He pauses, confused, because no one ever visits him on any day. He ignores it, throwing it out as a figment of his imagination, and goes back to his drafting. He’s ready to accept that he’s maybe a little crazy from the severe lack of sleep when it happens again. He furrows his eyebrows and walks to open the front door. He checks the peephole and winces internally. Rachel’s never looked so mad, and Thomas is a little afraid to open the door. Thomas gets so lost in his thoughts that he jumps when Rachel bangs on the door again, his face still on the door.

“Open the damn door, Thomas! We see you’re fucking car, you asshole!” Thomas sees Aris wince, and Thomas mentally prepares himself for what’s about to happen when he opens the door. He turns the deadbolt and pulls open the door, ready to apologize for whatever it is that he’s done, only to be met with fist hitting him square in the jaw. He doesn’t retaliate, because he kind of deserved that, but he had forgotten how hard Rachel could punch. “You. _Infuriating._ Dick!” Rachel screams at him before throwing her arms around his neck. Thomas shudders out a breath and hugs her back tightly, missing her and feeling like an idiot for ignoring them for so long.

“I’m sorry Rach, I didn’t mean to.” They stand there a few minutes, just holding each other before Aris squeezes his way into the group. Thomas holds him as tightly as he holds Rachel, and fails to hold back the sob that escapes his lips. “I’m so sorry, guys. I—” he can’t help but sob again, feeling the tears slide down his cheeks. They just hold him tighter as they move as a collective towards the living room and plopping down on the couch in a tangled mess of limbs, but never letting go of each other. They don’t ask questions, know they won’t get anything out of Thomas until he’s ready to talk, but they hold him. They sit with him and let him cry on them and they don’t say a word. Aris grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers while Rachel strokes his hair and whispers words of comfort in his ear.

He falls asleep that way, for the first time in days feeling safe and whole.

-x-

“He has a girlfriend,” Thomas whispers into the darkness of his bedroom. His mom had come home to them curled up on the couch and told them if they were staying that they needed to sleep upstairs in Thomas’s room, not in the living room. They had all nodded and quietly made the trek upstairs, Thomas stopping and hugging his mother before he followed. They’re curled around each other on his bed, Thomas in the middle with his friends on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his waist and chest. He doesn’t need to elaborate on who “he” is, and that in itself is a little pitiful isn’t it? He laughs humorlessly and says, a tad bitterly, “He has a _girlfriend,_ and all this time I believed that he actually _liked me._ Ha, like someone like Minho could ever _really_ like someone like _me._ ”

“Tommy, that’s enough.” Aris says from behind him. His arm tightens its hold where it lays on his waist and the hand Thomas hasn’t let go of since Aris grabbed it downstairs twitches in his grip. Rachel brushes her hands across Thomas’ forehead and hums in agreement. “There’s not a thing wrong with you.”

“He’s right, Tom. Minho’s obviously just an idiot,” Thomas opens his mouth to protest, but doesn’t get very far. “Nuh-uh, Thomas. I get that you have feelings for ‘im and whatever, but I don’t care. You’re my best friend, yeah? And I refuse _– we_ refuse – to let you sit here and belittle yourself because one jerk decided to lead you on and then spring this on you. You are _more_ than good enough for that asshole, you understand me?” Rachel’s holding his chin between her thumb and index finger, making him look her in the eyes, making him listen to her. Her eyes have been fierce and her expression holding nothing but truth. It’s one of the things he loves about her, she’s always true to herself and others and will do anything in her power to make a person believe that they deserve the best.

“She’s right, Tommy.” Aris whispers into his neck. “We talked to Newt, okay?” Those words make Thomas freeze, breathing becoming irregular before Aris nuzzles his head into Thomas’ neck and lets him calm down. “Shh, it’s okay. We talked to Newt, and he gave us a general run down of what happened. What Minho did was really shitty, Thomas, it was, and if he’s going to be that kind of guy, then maybe you don’t need to be with him, after all.” Aris isn’t saying this stuff to be mean, he knows that he’s just trying to be logical about everything, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting, doesn’t keep the longing at bay.

“I wrote my song about him.” Thomas mumbles a few minutes later, when he’s gotten a hold of himself and he feels like he can breathe again. The words are barely there, barely a whisper in the overbearing silence that’s engulfed them in that time, and Thomas feels utterly pitiful for it.

“We know, Tom.” Rachel kisses his forehead and tucks his face back into where her shoulder meets the pillow where he can be comfortable for the night ahead. “You always have us, you know that right?” Thomas nods, unable to actually speak, afraid he’ll do nothing but cry again. They settle in for the night, shifting slightly to settle more firmly into Thomas’ mattress. Thomas feels them pull the covers up over the three of them before they get back in their original positions on both sides of him. He lays his head on Aris’ arm and grabs Rachel’s hand after they lay down.

“Thanks, guys.” He says, trying to make sure that his voice can express just how grateful he is since they can’t see his face. He feels Aris smile into his neck and Rachel chuckle deep in her chest. They don’t say anything else, they don’t need to as they lay there, their position eerily similar to how they laid together the night before he left for school back in August. This is his favorite place to be, and he wishes he’d never ignored them at the beginning of the week.

Right before he falls asleep, he hears one of them say, “Anytime, Tommy-boy,” and it’s enough to put him into a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night.

-x-

Break goes a little easier after that.

Thomas group texts his friends from school – minus Minho, Gally, and Ben – letting them know that he’s okay, and that he’s sorry for running off like a moron that day. He’s immediately with a barrage of texts and calls and he laughs to himself as he waits for them to calm down just a little bit. Aris and Rachel call him a moron again, but immediately jump on the opportunity to sit in on his Skype session with the gang that evening. They leave after lunch and Thomas takes a shower and does everything he can to shake himself out of his stupor. He works more on his music for the theatre teacher and goes on a healthy run just around the block a few times before he goes back home.

His mom is home for dinner that night so they make chicken parmesan, like they did when he was a kid. It’s nice; this time he’s actually old enough to cut things without his mother’s help, but he lets her dote on him anyway. It’s something they haven’t done in a while, even before he went off to boarding school, and he knows that she misses this as much as he does, if not more. They eat in the living room and watch _Tangled_ sitting as closely together as they can without it getting in the way of them eating.  They don’t talk much, just enjoy the movie and each other’s presence, and it’s nice. It’s so nice, and he wishes he could be home to do this all the time.

“You’re too good for that boy, dear.” She says at the end of the movie. He can feel her looking at his face, and he turns to look her in the eye. She isn’t judging, he knows she would never unless it was detrimental to his health, but she knows where’s she’s going with it, understands that she just wants the best for him. So he nods, lets his lips curl up into a smile he knows is only ever on his face for her. It makes his heart hurt, because he’s never realized how much he missed her; he calls her every other day and they talk for at least an hour before or after she has to go to work, but her physical presence has done so much for his nerves today that he remembers why he ever agreed to go to boarding school in the first place; because of her. Everything good he’s done and is going to do is for her, and it makes her comment much more impactful. If he doesn’t end up with the guy, if he doesn’t get that happy ending, that’s okay. He’ll always have his mother, Aris, and Rachel; he’ll always have his family.

And in the end, that’s really all he’ll ever need.

-x-

The second week of Winter break is pretty easy and goes by without much trouble. Thomas works on his school work, finishes two songs for the Spring musical, and skypes or calls one or more of his friends at least once a day. That first Skype call was pretty hectic considering they were all trying to yell at him at once, especially Chuck. Once they were done with that, after Thomas, Aris and Rachel laughed at them for five consecutive minutes, and after he apologized for scaring them like that a few times, everyone relaxed and everything went back to normal. They made him promise to stay in touch for every day after that, and he concedes easily enough.

The last day before Thomas has to drive back to school is… well it takes a pretty unexpected turn.

He has everything packed by the time his mom has lunch ready on the stove, and they sit at the breakfast bar together to eat, knees bumping together under the table in a grounding sort of way. They talk about random things, never really settling on one topic, before transitioning to another one. His phone goes off a few times in a row, and Thomas furrows his eyebrows in response, not really sure how to go about it. He’s not allowed to touch his phone while at the table, something his mother’s glare firmly reminds him of, so he leaves it in his pocket, sure that it’s nothing all that important. Except it goes off a few more times, with texts and phone calls, and his mother seems like she can’t decide if she wants to be amused and let him check his phone or if she’s going to tell him to turn it off; Though she seems to be leaning toward the former.

They sit there for a few more minutes once their actually done eating, and just when it seems Thomas’ phone is going to stop ringing incessantly, the doorbell rings. Both of them freeze, because it’s obviously not someone they know; Aris and Rachel would have walked right in and any of his mother’s associates would have called _her_ before they showed up at the house. His mom goes to answer it while he takes care of the dishes, and when she comes back into the room, a very familiar looking boy with tanned skin is walking through the entry way with her. Thomas drop the plate he’s drying and snaps out of his stupor long enough to apologize to his mother before he’s suddenly got this overwhelming feeling of rage take over him.

He kisses his mom on the cheek and helps pick up the bigger pieces of glass. “Ignore any yelling you hear. Maybe take a walk,” he whispers to her in as calm a voice as he can manage. When she meets his gaze, he can see that she understands, that she knows just who this is, and she nods. He kisses her on the cheek again, murmurs a quick ‘love you’ where he’s got his lips pressed, and stands up to face the boy in question. Thomas doesn’t say anything as he starts to walk past Minho, just grabs his sleeve and roughly pulls him towards the direction of the stairs and his bedroom.

When they get all the way upstairs and Thomas closes the door, Minho’s barely gotten a word out of his mouth before Thomas has clocked him in the jaw. Minho doesn’t protest, – a good sign that he knows what he’s done wrong – just stands there and lets Thomas glare at him from their sides of the room. Thomas doesn’t even know where to start, all the emotions he feels coming to the surface all at once and he doesn’t really know which one to deal with first. He decides to stick with his anger.

“What, in the ever-loving _fuck_ do you think you’re doing here, Min?” He winces internally at the use of the nickname, but doesn’t let it show on his face.

Minho just smiles, small and sad, probably knowing that a lot of what he says is mostly a lost cause. “It’s good to see you, too, Thomas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small warning for slight description of a panic attack but it isn't detailed.  
> I will be taking a survey at the end of the next chapter so be on the look out ! 
> 
> still dedicated to my babe, angelo, tho i'm not sure if his url is the same, because i'm no longer on tumblr...  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit: i am no longer on tumblr
> 
> fic title taken from the Imagine Dragons song [found here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIK_LA2YYeg)


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